


these things that make us ache with desire

by idrilka



Series: back and forth [2]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idrilka/pseuds/idrilka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sex has always been easy for them, it was everything else that needed work after everything that happened [...]</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	these things that make us ache with desire

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Based on fictionalised portrayals as seen on the HBO miniseries.  
>  **Notes:** I blame [celle](http://bluecartography.tumblr.com) for this one. She said at one point, "But where's the porn gone?" So, you know, here it is. Shameless porn. This piece could serve as an epilogue/a coda to _back and forth..._

He’s still half asleep, chasing the remnants of the dream under his closed eyelids, hoping to catch it with the tips of his fingers, and it feels like emerging from under the water—a moment in time where everything is still, quiet, his mind a little fuzzy before reality catches its first breath. Nate doesn’t open his eyes and lets himself linger in that dream-like state, aware of his surroundings but still detached, enveloped in another world for a minute or two more.

When he turns around, there’s a warm body on the other side of the bed, muscular and solid and _there_ , just within an arm’s reach. So Nate reaches out and touches, his eyes still closed, his fingers tracing imaginary lines and brushing over small scars that tell stories Nate would rather not hear. Brad doesn’t move, but Nate can feel his heartbeat under the palm of his right hand, too frantic for someone who’s asleep.

Nate moves closer, until he can bury his face in the crook of Brad’s neck. “Good morning,” he says and kisses him in the spot where his jaw meets his neck. The words come out slurred, like Nate is too lazy to pronounce them properly. He can feel Brad’s arms close around him, but his hands stay still on Nate’s back, like Brad isn’t sure how far Nate will let it go this time and he desperately doesn’t want to make the wrong move.

“Nate,” Brad says, his voice hoarse from sleep and maybe something else, and Nate hums in response, still too comfortable and too lazy to open his eyes. His fingers ghost over Brad’s abdomen and he can feel the flex of muscles under the palm of his hand. If he moved his arm just an inch lower, he could wrap his fingers around Brad’s hard cock. He knows Brad must feel Nate’s own erection pressed against his hip, hard and aching. “Is it— Are we okay now?”

Nate nudges him with his thigh and rolls onto his stomach, tangling his legs with Brad’s under the covers. “Are we, Brad?” he asks, keeping his voice soft, and kisses Brad behind his ear, his tongue darting out for a second to lick the hot skin that smells like Nate’s soap and sweat and _Brad_. “I’m not the one who needed convincing.”

After that night they both spent in Nate’s bed, barely touching, just sleeping next to each other, nothing happened for a long time, not even a single kiss. Sex has always been easy for them, it was everything else that needed work after everything that happened, after it turned out that sometimes telling that other person things without really saying anything out loud was not just enough. They tried that once and it ended in a disaster. They’re more careful now.

“I— I wouldn’t be here if I had doubts,” Brad says, and Nate suspects that maybe he wanted to say something entirely different, that maybe his lips started to curl around a word he has yet to hear from Brad, but Nate believes in baby steps.

“Mmm, good,” Nate murmurs, nuzzling Brad’s neck and nosing along the line of his jaw. He doesn’t say _I love you_ even though he wants to, because he doesn’t want Brad to think he has to say the words back, that this is a silent ultimatum given by Nate, yet another thing Brad has to prove. He’s proven enough by coming back and admitting he never should’ve left in the first place.

Nate cups Brad’s cheek and pulls him in for a lazy, almost sloppy kiss. When he moves back to take a deep breath, he can see the light seeping through the fringe of his eyelashes, getting under his closed eyelids. Brad leans in to kiss him again, and this time the kiss lasts longer; it’s unhurried, deep and open-mouthed—there’s just the lazy slide of their tongues and their lips moving slowly, and for a moment that’s enough, the near-perfect way they fit together, tangled in each other, refusing to let go. This is their world for a moment—the two of them between the sheets and the soft sunlight coming through the window, leaving a bright, warm patch at the foot of the bed.

Nate traces the ridge of Brad’s hipbone, teasing, then he wraps his hand around Brad’s dick, slick with precome, and sets a slow, leisurely rhythm, twisting his wrist a little on every upward stroke. He doesn’t stop kissing Brad even for a moment—his lips, the line of his jaw, his exposed throat, the little hollow between his collarbones—and shudders when Brad’s hand comes to rest on his hip then reaches between their bodies, pressed together, to touch Nate.

When he finally opens his eyes, the light is too bright, blinding him for a moment, but then Brad pulls him down for another kiss, obscuring the view, and all that Nate can see through his half-closed eyes is a faint glimmer coming from behind Brad that makes his skin look almost golden.

“Wait,” Brad whispers with his lips against Nate’s temple and catches him by the wrist. Nate’s hand on Brad’s dick stills, but he doesn’t loosen his grip around him.

Brad fumbles for a moment with one hand in the drawer of the bedside table, while his gaze remains fixed upon Nate, his lips red from kisses and his eyes a little wild, like that one day back in Iraq, when Brad was running around half-naked, his arms outstretched, in the tall grass just outside Baghdad. That day all Nate could do was watch. Now he lays a hand on the nape of Brad’s neck and pulls until they can kiss again.

His eyes are still closed when he feels Brad press the lube and a condom into his hand, and for a moment Nate doesn’t understand, lost in a haze and lost in Brad, but then Brad rolls over and Nate’s brain finally catches up. They don’t need words right now, the silent understanding is enough—always there, in the back of their minds.

Nate leans in and kisses the nape of Brad’s neck, then lets his lips trail lower, along the curve of his spine, while his fingers brush over the swell of Brad’s ass. He opens the bottle of lube and coats his fingers, then warms it up between his hands for a moment. When he slowly works a finger in, he feels Brad tense up, so he strokes his back soothingly and whispers, “Exhale, Brad. Breathe.”

He stretches Brad slowly, carefully adding finger after finger until Brad squirms under his touch and pushes back, taking his fingers deeper in.

“Easy.” Nate laughs and kisses the small of Brad’s back, then he tears the wrapper and slips the condom on, applies more lube. His hands pull at Brad until they both tumble to lie on their sides, back to chest, and Nate runs a hand down Brad’s thigh before pushing his leg up and forward for better access.

They rock slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. It’s unhurried and mellow, and nothing like their relationship from before, when they couldn’t afford to waste any time, because there was always a time stamp on the tickets and a life thousands of miles away to get back to.

Brad cranes his neck and catches Nate’s cheek into his hand—his fingers brush against Nate’s skin in a light caress as he kisses him, sweeping his tongue over Nate’s lower lip and teasing it with his teeth.

Nate comes with a moan muffled by Brad’s lips, and he feels sated, satisfied and _right_ with Brad by his side, sweaty and panting, his eyes glazed over with lust; he’s still hard in Nate’s hand.

“On your back,” Nate says, disposing of the condom, and Brad obeys—he shifts on the bed and his hands move to touch Nate’s neck and his shoulders as he slides down Brad’s body to take him in his mouth. Nate swirls his tongue around the head and licks a wide stripe along the underside just to take him as deep as he can a moment later, swallowing around Brad’s dick, and Jesus, he’s missed it so much, the way they fit together, the way Brad’s fingers are tangled in Nate’s hair, his grip firm but gentle, and he doesn’t try to push Nate down, just cradles his head with his hands; it feels familiar and reassuring. Nate sucks and licks until his jaw is aching and his lips are tingling, his hand wrapped around Brad where he can’t reach with his mouth, and Brad comes, arching off the bed, while Nate swallows and strokes him through the aftershocks.

Nate kisses his way up Brad’s abdomen and chest, his eyes closed, and he breathes in the scent of sex and Brad, enveloping him and impossible to shake off, and Nate is sure that if he got out of the bed right now, he could still feel Brad all over for hours.

“I missed it,” he admits, running his hand through Brad’s regulation buzzcut. “Missed you.”

Brad is drawing invisible lines on Nate’s hip, his fingers touching Nate’s skin lightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They both know it’s not true, not entirely anyway, because Brad needs to be back in California in two days. But other than that, Nate knows that Brad will make good on his promise. He’s assured of this.


End file.
